The King of Hearts
by Elysium97
Summary: AU set in Atlantis. Born to the Sirenian king, Gray raises to become a hero who will bring glory to his heirs. When Lucy, the heiress to the Atlantian throne, is abducted by Natsu, the Flame god's son, men riot against the gods. Gray sails to Heartia to defeat the gods. Though, when he meets a certain Rain goddess, will he be able to thrust a sword through her heart?


_Main pairing: Gruvia_

_Side pairings: Nalu, Jerza, Gale and Miraxus_

_If you are interested, I will give you info on the characters :) Please, enjoy!_

__**~O~**__

_**The**** King of Hearts**_

_**by Elysium97**_

_**Prologue: The blessed**_

_**_**~O~**_**_

My father was a king as prudent as he was arrogant. His goblet always filled with the most luscious wine, his laughter always an octave above the others and his merriness as dangerous as it was addicting. He was proud and outspoken, compensating for his wife's taciturnity, though her empathy soothed his roughness. No man ever spoke ill of the Sirenian king nor the fair lady he had wed - a daughter of a hero, nonetheless; thus a son born from their loins was destined to become a great man. The preachers spoke of a young hero who will win wars and unite kingdoms. The rhapsodists sung of the boy as valiant as he would be beautiful, shedding blood and virgins' tears, a warrior blessed by the Gods.

And I was all that.

When born, my hair was already darker than that of the other boys, my eyes a bit gleamier and - the midwife swore - I spoke. Of conquests, of the deeds yet to be made. The king had named me Gray; I was born on the night when the grey tides bemoaned the shore by the song of my mother's wails. The gods have honored me with their presence. The queen loved me, the king adored me and the people worshipped me. I was the Elevens' favorite.

I grew fast, untouched by sickness. Whilst my peers were still weak youths, plump and awkward, the first muscles of boyhood had framed my features; every trace of childish fragility wiped from my face. My skin was too fair, unkissed by the Sun - my locks were tousled shadows, glistening in the light.

I was seven when I had first slayed a man - a butcher's son who had called me a fishman and my father a rapist. His family was banished for maligning the prince. I recall silhouettes howling accusations, proclaiming my father a god-profaner - my mother cried. The king had knelt before me when the judgement was made, his broad hand seizing my shoulder so that none was left uncovered. He smiled at me and said: "You are my son, a heir to the lands you see. You are not a king, but a son of a man and a god - let none defile your name." The throne room was oddly serene when voices laid low.

At ten, the Gods welcomed my mother to the fields of Melodius - she was bedridden by sickness, growing simpler by day. It was a blessing they took her away. Father had retreated to his chambers upon the news. The queen's ashes were fed to the Ocean; father wasn't there. By night, I heard him pray.

When my eleventh moon waned, a woman came to me from the sea. Her tresses were dark grape and skin translucent. She wore solely a smile as she came to overshadow me. Father's words emerged and I instantly recognised her - Ul, the Ocean Maiden. Her face adorned temples, though no sculpt managed to capture her beauty; it laid not in bones or curves, but in the sadness of her eyes.

She sat before me, her toes coated in the sand. I observed her before dipping mine into the sea; her gaze scattered all over me.

"You have her eyes."she said when the winds blew, spattering us. The salt nestled in my pores; a poison kissing my wounds. The horizon blazed, sweating into the sea.

"How so?"I inquired, avoiding her. She didn't seem to care.

"She was my sister."she admitted. "You have more of her than of that man."

My lips thinned and muscles tensed. "Why did you do it?"

"When the one you love asks, there is nothing in the world you're not willing to give, no matter how great."

With time, I learned the wisdom behind her words. Love had you bound, love ruled you and demanded to be felt - a mark of our nature to tame the beasts. I obeyed my father's wishes for love. I slayed for the kingdom that raised me. I laid on the shore in the rancid noon for love and she wouldn't come. But on those rare occasions she would, I drank her words.

She was a mortal, once. Her father was a god and her mother a human, a queen. She was raised among seven sisters to marry a man one day, a king or a noble, and bear him a son to ensure the bloodline. The suitors flooded their home with the first rays of her fourteenth Sun; hundreds of men - unsightly boys yet to come of age, heroes and widowers - dressed in gold, crimson and silver, hands brimming with gifts. She laughed at the memory of the Aesterian king and her father's rage as the swan was presented to them - white and lively, it peed the king's sandals. At dusk, she was promised to the mightiest of all, though she did not speak his name. She loved a god and disobeyed the mortal laws. A goddess came to her, whispering sweet temptations. Eventually, she fled to live amongst the gods. She slayed the beast by the goddess' wish. Life oozed her and the woman, lenient as she was, gifted her life, though not quite the one Ul had lusted for. The goddess turned her into the child of the Ocean, whilst her daughter was ripped from her embrace and taken to dine with the Eleven on the plains of Hishwah. The scorn in her voice did not falter with time.

It still did not.

I am seventeen when the waters greet me to offer me shelter within the skin. I drown in the sensation of waves that stretch over the sound; their hisses spill and come in ghostly echoes - a Silenter's chorals that daunt me. My skin is tight, it limits me. My palms spread to feel my mother's womb - I have no legs, but a muscle that dances by my will. Mother names it a tail, though I learn it quite differs from that of cats. It is not covered in fur, but tiny nails gentle to touch. They glisten in the sunlight like Juvia's tears on the green leaves. The land is dressed in white and the preachers regard it an ill omen. Mother says the goddess suffers love.

The melody which announces itself is rich and resonant, agitating Ul. Bleary, I rise, seeking the musician. The crowds are summoned to the gate. I notice him amid dozen men, husbands at the peak of their might; he is short for his age, though muscled and pretty. His nut hair shrieks foreigner and a thought beams in my mind, ignating my blood and bones. I shiver. A war.

My feet strike the brisk earth, ignorant of the mother's calls. I clothe and bolt towards the sound; Juvia's sorrow molders beneath me. The crowd scatters at the sight of their prince, wet and smudged with sand. They devour me. The last of sound rests flat in the thin air - the boy drinks in my frame, silent before my crave. I claim him; his bones wound mine.

"Speak."I order and he trembles. The gods have presented us a craven.

"His Grace asks for your presence at the council, son of Silver."he stutters, suddenly small. "The Flames have captured the princess. The lands rebel against the Gods."

A clamor surges, relentless, delirious with joy. My heart sparks between bliss and chagrin as I let go. The messenger's cheeks are ruddy with embarrassment. I catch a sight of my mother by the shore, though splintered by the mass. She knows. I am certain.

They chant my name.

I am seventeen when we dine. The preachers speak of a young hero who will win wars and unite kingdoms. The rhapsodists sing of the boy as valiant as he is beautiful, shedding blood and virgins' tears, a warrior blessed by Gods.

A crow flies through the window and the feast appeases. My father wobbles in his throne. His hand flutters and servants rush to slay the unfortunate animal. I know they will not manage so I do not bother to look. Wine spills over my hands. I hear gasps.

I am seventeen when I realise that glory does not equal happiness. Heroes were named heroes not for their chivalrous deeds, but for the peculiar virtue they shared. They were dead. My father is not as preeminent when I state that I have no desire to be a hero.

Still, I take my steel and sail across the lands. Mother doesn't come to say goodbye or wish me a fruitful hunt. Father shares her worry, it is etched in his creases, however, he is there. His stern gaze sees me off. There is fever in the eyes of my reflection. I do not fret.

I will not be a hero, I vow. No._  
><em>

I will be _a god_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Uh, this was my first time writing a historical fiction, though I admit it was quite fun ^^ Thank you so much for reading, you don't even know how much it means to me. If you have any questions, please ask, I'll explain everything. :) Have a nice day!_


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